CHAPTER ELEVEN
_Fate Laughs_
"Well?" the quiet voice of Yammanato came to him, after a period of timewhich seemed to be no less than a hundred years. "Do you believe me,now? Or do you think I printed this myself for a little joke?"
Dawson didn't say a thing, and neither did Freddy Farmer. It is doubtfulif at that moment either of them could have spoken a word, even at thecost of their lives. The blackest and most inexcusable failure possiblewas theirs. It was complete and utter defeat for them. Every single stepthey had taken had been a step downhill toward failure and disgrace.They had failed Vice-Admiral Carter, and they had failed Vice-AdmiralStone, and Commander Drake. And they had failed themselves. From thevery moment the lightning had struck them as they crouched outside thatshack near San Diego they had not done one single thing that wasn't thewrong thing to do. Twice doom had reached for them, and missed. But notthe third time. It was all over now. They had failed. To the end oftheir days they would not be able to hold their heads up among men. Itwould be far better if ...
"Good fortune is a fickle woman, Captain Dawson," Yammanato spoke again,as Dawson caught himself swaying like a drunken man. "She belongs to noone, for always. Even I have suffered from her fickle ways at times. Butin your case you were doomed to lose. You were mere boys trying to beatmen. To beat men who will one day become masters of the entire world. Sodo not let your sorrow and anger at yourself rob you of your desire tolive. It was inevitable, this thing. You two were but two pawns to betaken and removed from the game. We Japanese have made this thing happento others before, and we will make it happen to still more in thefuture."
The pitch-black mood still engulfed Dawson, but he forced himself torally his thoughts, and to regain control of them. He looked atYammanato and regarded him, flint-eyed.
"Taking a couple of tricks isn't winning the whole game, Yammanato," hesaid with an effort. "Okay, we didn't catch that spy aboard thecarrier, and the force has sailed. You forget the other thing. The otherjob we did accomplish!"
The little Jap just looked at him and smiled pleasantly.
"How many times, Captain Dawson?" he asked with arched eyebrows.
"How many times, what?" Dawson retorted.
"How many times has the famous American tendency to bluff beensuccessful with you?" the Jap shot right back at him. "Another job?Well, somehow I find myself not even curious any more, Captain Dawson.Simply talking with you has satisfied me completely. There was no otherjob, and we all know that now."
"No?" Dawson flung at him. "That's a horse on you, Yammanato! If nothingwas bothering you, Farmer and I wouldn't be alive now. It's not theJaprat way to let their prisoners go on living for nothing. It won'twork, Yammanato. And I do mean _your_ bluff!"
The little Jap continued to smile, and then suddenly he looked almostsad and a little reproachful.
"I am afraid you have absorbed too much American propaganda," he saidsoftly. "Not all Japanese are alike in the matter of waging war ... andwinning. There are many like I am. The thrill of the battle is not deathfor my enemies. It is the defeat and the complete humiliation of theenemy that pleases me most. Why have you not long since been dead? Iwill gladly tell you, Captains Dawson and Farmer. Because killing youwould not bring me half the joy or the satisfaction of letting you liveto return to Vice-Admiral Stone, and Commander Drake, as two items ofproof that their stupidity is no less than your own. Your deaths wouldmean nothing to me because I have nothing against you as individuals.You are, as I have said, merely two pawns that I have won, and which itpleases me to return to the loser ... for what you are worth. No, I haveno desire at all to kill you. In a week, or two weeks, or perhapslonger, you will be drugged again and returned to the very spot where wecaptured you. I will have left the Islands by then. Of course, if whenyou again awake from the drugs, you wish to take your own lives, that issomething that will be out of my hands. But I have a feeling that youwill not do that. You Americans appear to have one admirable quality,stupid as it is. You find it difficult to realize when you aredefeated."
The Jap stopped talking, smiled broadly, and made a little gesture withhis hands, palms upward.
"And now I must leave you," he said. "No, you are not to be tied upagain. Kato is a little over-zealous on some things. You are free tomove about this room as you wish. Blankets will be given you to sleepon. There is already some furniture here. Make what use of it you like.I am sure you will have no complaint about the food we will give you.No, your confinement will not be too severe a hardship in a physicalsense. And one more thing. If you are overcome with the desire to escapefrom this room, you are quite welcome to try. Kato! Come with me."
Yammanato raised his voice slightly on the last, and then calmly turnedhis back on the two air aces and walked toward the door. Wild madnessseized hold of Dawson and he was tempted to fling himself at the littleJap. But he had just enough cold, hard common sense left not to make theslightest move in that direction. Kato was sidling around them, his jetblack eyes glittering and alert. And Dawson knew that the giant son ofNippon had the power in either hand to snuff out his life with a singleblow. So he stood stock-still and inwardly prayed that Freddy Farmerwould do the same. And Freddy did.
As he reached the door Yammanato turned and looked back at theminquiringly.
"There is something else," he said. "Or maybe there isn't. Have eitherof you a reasonable request to make? Say, something that might add tothe comfort of your visit? After all, you can expect to be my guests fora considerable length of time."
Dawson started to shake his head, and hot, blistering words rose up inhis throat. But at that very instant the glimmer of an insane hopewinked in his brain.
"Yes, I've a request, Yammanato," he said, and pointed upward. "Thestink in this place would suffocate me in a day. How about opening thatskylight and letting some fresh air into the place?"
The small Jap's eyes flew to the window, and Dawson could tell he wasgauging its height. Suddenly he lowered his eyes to Dawson's face andsmiled and nodded.
"Certainly, Captain Dawson," he said. "I will have Kato open it at once.Even by piling up the furniture I do not think you could reach it. Butif you can ... my very best wishes, Captain. It is sixty feet from thatskylight to the ground, and nothing but sheer wall. Nor does that letout on any roof. It is simply an opening in the side of the building.For ventilation, of course. Kato! Open that skylight."
The big Japanese hesitated while the shadow of a scowl passed across hisface, and then he went over to the side wall and unhooked the pair oflines that controlled the skylight. He pulled down on one hard and thehinged window opened with a rusty squeak. Then he yanked viciously onboth lines and they parted in a shower of dust high up by the skylight.Rolling up the lines that dropped to the floor, the big Jap stuffed themin his pocket and glared at Dawson and Freddy Farmer. Yammanato laughedsoftly.
"I'm afraid that Kato has more confidence in your ability to escape,Captains, than I have," he said. "But now if it rains you will probablyget wet."
"We won't mind," Dawson said with a stiff grin. "And thanks for thefresh air, Yammanato. It's certainly needed around here."
The polished Jap gave him a brief smile, a longer searching look, andthen nodded and went outside with Kato at his heels. The big brute of aJap jerked the door shut with a bang, and the two air aces heard boththe key twisting in the lock, and a bolt ramming home. Then all wassilent again.
But not quite completely silent. There were faint, new sounds that cameto their ears as the two youths stood there in their room prison. Soundsthat came down through the skylight high above their heads. The faintmurmurs and whispers of a city of some one hundred and thirty-fivethousand population. The sounds of Honolulu. They both listened to thesounds for a moment, and then looked at each other.
"Too bad we didn't go down in flames in that Fortress!" young Farmerbroke the silence between them bitterly. "What a blasted mess we've madeof everything. Gosh! I was never so disgusted with anybody as I am withmyself
right now!"
"Yeah," Dawson mumbled with a grimace. "I'm sure not in love with me,that's a cinch. The carrier force already two days at sea, and that Nazirat still aboard one of the ships! When he proved that to us it hit meas hard as hearing that we'd lost the war."
Freddy Farmer gloomily agreed with a silent nod, and not words. Dawsonbit his lower lip in meditation, balled one clenched fist into the palmof the other hand, and cast furtive glances at young Farmer out of thecorner of an eye.
"Are you game, Freddy?" he presently asked in a low voice.
The English-born air ace jerked his head around and looked at himpuzzled.
"Game for what?" he demanded. "What do you mean?"
"Taking our chances on getting out of here," Dawson said. "Everythinglooks like it's been sunk to the bottom. Heaven knows but what that Nazirat has tossed half a dozen water flares over the side by now. But ...well, until I'm dead and gone I'll never give up trying, at least. Nomatter how much of a fool I've made of myself to date. Besides, there'salways the chance that something lucky _for us_ might happen."
Freddy Farmer made an angry gesture with his hands as Dawson paused.
"If you've got something to say, Dave, for heaven's sake then say it!"he bit off. "What are you working up to, I'd like to know? What do youmean, take our chances on getting out of here? You know perfectly wellI'd risk anything to get out of this hole. But how? It's impossible! Weeven haven't a gun between us to shoot the lock and bolt off that door.And even if he was lying about the window being sixty feet from theground, how are we going to get up there? Fly?"
"Close that trap of yours, and keep your shirt on, and you'll find out!"Dawson said sharply, but placed his arm on Freddy's shoulder. "I've gota key, see? This. Don't even know how it got into my pocket. Felt it inthe lining as Yammanato was leaving. That's why I asked for him to raisethe window. Look."
As Dawson spoke he pulled a match from his pocket and held it up. Wildhope had blossomed on Freddy Farmer's face, but it faded out in a flashas he stared at the match. He switched agonized eyes to Dawson's face.
"Don't, Dave, please!" he said in a voice that was close to breaking."This isn't the time for leg pulling, or any of your funny gags. Please,old man! It only makes me feel worse, and ..."
"Stop it, will you?" Dawson barked. "Sweet tripe! Do you think I'mwasting time kidding, _now_! Don't be a dope. This little match _is_ ahope for us ... I hope. Now, give me a hand lifting the table and stuff,that's here, over by the door. First thing is to block them off fromgetting in. No, save the questions. Just give me a hand, Freddy. AndI'm not crazy, so help me!"
Freddy Farmer closed his mouth with an effort, and together they lifteda heavy table, two chairs, and a bamboo chest affair, across the roomand wedged them as best they could against the door.
"Okay," Dawson said when that was done. "Peel off your tunic and shirtand tear them into strips. I'm going to do the same just as soon as Iget old rags and papers over there in the corner."
But Freddy Farmer didn't move. He simply stood rooted in his tracks andstared at Dawson as though he believed his pal had suddenly gone stark,raving mad. He was still standing there rooted in his tracks when Dawsonreturned with an armful of filthy rags and old papers that he hadgathered up from the corner of the room. He placed them in a pile closeto the side wall and directly under the skylight. Then he straightenedup and took off his own tunic and shirt, and started ripping them downthe seams.
"Get yours off, Freddy!" he said. "Get them off fast. Don't you get theidea of the match, now?"
"No, I do not!" young Farmer replied, and fumbled with his buttons."Unless you intend to set the house on fire?"
"No, just this pile of rags, cloth, and old papers," Dawson said, andmotioned for Freddy to toss him his tunic. "And unless I miss my guessit will make plenty of smoke."
"Smoke?" Freddy fairly gagged. "Good grief, why?"
Dawson looked at him, and smiled.
"Boy, you sure are slow on the uptake today, pal," he said and pointed afinger upward. "That skylight. It's a natural for a chimney. If we canmake enough smoke it will go pouring out of there. Maybe we'll even haveto break up some of those chairs and toss the pieces on the fire. But wewant lots of smoke to go pouring out of that skylight for people tosee."
"Why, bless me!" Freddy Farmer ejaculated. "It'll ..."
"Absolutely, my friend," Dawson said grimly. "Somebody's going to seethe smoke, think the place is on fire, and pull in the alarm. And if wecan keep enough smoke pouring out it's going to be plenty embarrassingfor Mr. Yammanato when the fire department, and the police, startbanging on his front door. In fact I hope it gives him, and every oneof the rats in this place, a permanent case of heart failure. Anyway,it'll be an out for us, at least."
"Boy, the things you can think up!" Freddy Farmer cried softly as hepractically tore his shirt from his back. "I always said you had thebrains of a dozen people."
"Well, you've said it once, just now, anyway," Dawson grinned, andtossed Farmer's ripped tunic on the pile. "But let's say a silent prayerthat that skylight doesn't act as a down-draft. Okay, Freddy, toss therest of it on. I'm going to set her alight."
"Just a minute!" young Farmer stopped him. And then after he had closedhis eyes tight for a moment, and had opened them, and nodded, he saidsoberly. "Right-o, Dave. Strike the match, and start the stuffburning."
Dave Dawson at Truk Page 11